


Dialogue

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10232435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: A variety of scenes for a variety of pairings.





	1. “I’ve got one word for you: sing-along!” (Jugronica)

**Author's Note:**

> a bunch of short ficlets based on prompts i receive for [this post](http://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/post/158277429631/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-line-of-dialogue-and-ill). feel free to send in ones i haven't already written--preferably for jarchie or jugron! 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“That’s two words,” Jughead replies pointedly.

Veronica stops dancing in front of him, a pout gracing her perfectly glossed lips. “You’re a jerk,” she tells him, half-serious. She crosses her arms over her chest, and suddenly without the excitement of dancing she looks menacing, intimidating.

Jughead swallows nervously. He brings his drink to his lips to down half of it.

“If you’re not going to sing, at least come dance.”

“You don’t want to see me dance. Or hear me sing. Neither of those would be good for anyone.”

Veronica taps her foot impatiently.

Jughead knocks back the last of his drink and forces himself to stand. “I’ll dance,” he concedes, “but only because dancing with you has to make _anyone_ look good.”

She laughs, barely heard under the music thudding through the club. She takes him by the hands and tugs him to the dancefloor. Crammed in between a dozen strangers, Jughead lets Veronica arrange them as she pleases. She puts his hands on her hips and she winds her arms across his shoulders.

She starts to move, slow and rhythmic, and he starts to mimic the motions. “This okay?” She leans forward to ask, and her lips brush his ear.

He nods. “Yeah, s’okay.” He flexes his fingers and his touch darts across the inch of skin between her top and her skirt. He gulps.

Her grin shines up under the black light. She doesn’t kiss him right then—Jughead isn’t sure what he would do if she did, so he’s a little thankful—but there’s a promise in the curve of her lips, the glint of her eyes. There’s the promise of _later_ in the way her nails scrape against the nape of his neck, and how she laughs when he stumbles over another step. There’s the promise of _soon_ in every passing minute.

Jughead kisses her first, overrun with impatience; he kisses her under the strobe lights and can taste the champagne when she opens her mouth to deepen the kiss. When they pull back, Jughead can feel the stain of her lipstick smeared across his own face and their blushes burn in unison.

She grins, and Jughead can’t help but mirror the expression.


	2. “You forgot to say the magic word.” (Jarchie)

“You forgot to say the magic word,” Archie sing-songs.

“Fuck you!” Jughead retorts as he makes another leap for his hat. Despite the inch he has over his best friend-slash-boyfriend, Archie has managed to keep his signature beanie from him for the better part of a half hour.

Archie pretends to pout while he clutches the hat to his chest; he turns away from Jug and darts toward the other side of the room. “Now, Forsythe, that’s not very nice.”

Jughead groans. “I hate you.” He steps to the left, then the right, trying to counter the escape Archie is so clearly planning.

“No, you don’t,” Archie replies swiftly. He feints to the left then dives toward the right—until Jughead catches him around the middle. They tumble to the ground hard enough that the pictures on the wall rattle.

“You’re the worst,” Jughead amends.

Archie tucks the hat behind his back and leans away from Jughead, even as his arms wind around Archie to reach for the prize. “You love it.”

This time, Jughead’s groan hits his cheek and vibrates off his skin. “So help me, I do. Asshole.”

Archie laughs and kisses Jughead once their faces are close enough. Jughead bites his lower lip, hard, startling him so much the hat slips from his grasp.

Jughead twists around him and finally takes the beanie back in hand. “Success!” Jamming the knit cap over his ears again, he beams triumphantly at Archie.

Archie can’t help but laugh again, pulling Jughead close so that he can sneak another kiss or two or twelve. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Jughead grins. “Loser,” he tells him affectionately.


	3. “Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?" (Jarchie)

The room is impossibly still.

Jughead can feel his mouth hanging open, blush burning on his cheeks; he watches Archie shift uneasily from foot to foot, also blushing and muttering unhappily under his breath. Jughead tries to find the words—he’s a writer, he should have a plethora of words—but fails. Fails _spectacularly_.

In the end, it’s Archie who breaks the silence.

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” Archie isn’t looking at him, instead his gaze is focused on the carpet of his bedroom. He won’t stop fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and won’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he’s going to burst from all the excess energy. He gnaws on his lower lip, the already flushed skin lighting up even brighter under the abuse. Jughead wants to reach out, stop him, but there’s too many feet between them and Jughead doesn’t remember how to make his legs work.

“Jug—?” Archie’s tone turns pleading and breathless. There’s an undercurrent of wet emotion running like a stream with the single syllable.

“No.” Jughead finally speaks, his own single syllable coming out like a bark. He shakes his head so hard, so sure that his hat slips off and hits the ground with a dull thud. “No,” he says again.

Archie looks _frightened_ and something inside Jughead’s chest fractures. Suddenly he’s striding across the room with purpose, feet getting with the picture, until he practically crashes into Archie. There’s half-spoken words interrupted by sputtering gasps from Archie, but Jughead pays them no mind. He brings his hands up to freckled cheeks and kisses Archie on his lips, swallows his confusion whole.

He stays like that until Archie melts under the touch. He stays pressed against his best friend as a gentle and insistent pressure until Archie is pressing against him right back. Archie’s hands find Jughead’s shoulders and pull him closer, the kiss turning deeper as they open their mouths in unison.

Eventually, the kiss breaks but they hardly move far.

“We’re not going to pretend you never said that, okay?” Jughead whispers, just to be sure.

Archie laughs. “Okay.”


	4. "Please stay." (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _tonight, i need you to stay_

“Please stay.”

The words are so soft, gentle, quiet—Veronica isn’t sure she heard them, at first. Even so, she pauses at the threshold of the guest room door. She stops, one hand braces on the doorframe and one foot in the hall, and waits. She listens to his distressed sigh and the scrape of sheets as he shifts around in the bed.

“Please stay,” he says again. It’s still a whisper, but Veronica knows she didn’t imagine it this time. She turns away from the door and lets it fall almost shut behind her. Her footsteps, dull thuds as they are, seem incredibly loud; the springs creaking under her as she slips onto the bed are even worse. It’s all so loud that she stops and spares a cautious glance for the bedroom door once more.

The moment passes, and she finishes situating herself on the bed. She slides under the comforter and ignores the way Jughead startles when their legs slide together.

Jughead clears his throat. “Sorry.”

Veronica shakes her head. “Don’t be.” She reaches out and links their fingers. “What are friends for?”

Jughead’s laugh is watered down. He shrugs, and makes a tiny broken sound when she lets go of his hand. Instead, Veronica wraps an arm across his shoulders and pulls him close.

“It’ll be okay, Jughead.” She whispers the words into his mop of hair, dark like hers but tangled up in knots. “It’ll be okay.”


	5. "Stop trying to cheer me up!" (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \+ “Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.”

“Stop trying to cheer me up!”

Jughead raises an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed with Veronica’s attempt at deflection. She’s not looking at him; her arms are crossed tight over her chest and she’s pretending to be entranced with her closet rather than her boyfriend. Jughead doesn’t move from the bed. He taps his foot on the carpeted floor and it’s so plush it doesn’t even make a sound. He does his best to wait her out—Veronica can almost never resist getting cozy and watching something inane as a way to relieve stress.

Key word: _almost_.

Ten minutes pass and finally Jughead relents. He stands up, shrugs off his denim jacket first and hangs it over her desk chair. Then, he strides up confidently behind her and curls his arms around her waist.

She huffs unhappily but melts into his hold.

“Ronnie,” he murmurs. “There’s an entire unwatched season of _Jersey Shore_ that’s calling your name.”

Slowly, she unwinds. Her arms fall and she traces the moles scattered across Jughead’s arms. She sighs. “I was planning to be upset for at least another ten minutes.”

“I don’t like it when you’re upset.” Carefully, he starts to walk backwards and brings Veronica along with him. Amazingly enough it’s a well-rehearsed dance. Even their tumble back onto her bed is gracefully; they fall into an artfully tangled pile of limbs and Jughead has his laptop open in the blink of an eye. “This okay?”

Veronica nods, already pillowing her head on Jug’s shoulder.

Grinning to himself, Jughead queues up the aforementioned crappy reality television, knowing he’ll find himself sucked in despite his best efforts.

 

 

Jughead wakes first and slowly. He’s still wrapped around Veronica, who’s still sleeping. _Jersey Shore_ plays on before them even though his laptop sits askew across their laps. He blinks and looks around subtly so as not to disturb Veronica. It takes him longer than he’d care to admit to realize there’s voices chattering outside the bedroom, down the hall. Archie and Kevin are unmistakable, and Jughead knows Betty can’t be far—

The door opens with an ominous click. “Hey, V!” Betty announces as she barges in. “Have you seen Ju—oh.”

It’d be funny if… no, okay, it’s pretty hilarious, Jughead can admit that. His muffled chuckling is actually what rouses Ronnie from her nap. Silky black locks in disarray, Veronica sits up and squints at her best friend, standing shell-shocked in the middle of the room.

“Hey, B,” Ronnie answers with a furrowed brow. “What’s up?”

Betty squeaks, then flees.

Jughead stifles his laughter long enough to answer Veronica’s curiosity. “She walked in on us cuddling, I think we broke her.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “From the look on her face, you’d think she caught us _in flagrante delicto_.” She shakes her head and slides off the bed. She pauses long enough in front of her vanity mirror to calm the storm of her hair. “C’mon, let’s face the music.”

“Jeez, you sure know how to make a guy feel loved,” he teases as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. All the same, he meets her at the threshold of the bedroom.

Veronica smirks at him, leans up on her toes to kiss him at the corner of his lips. “I’ll make it up to you.” She takes his hand and links their fingers.

“No more _Jersey Shore_?” He exclaims as she pulls him out into the hall.

“Don’t even joke about that, Jones.”


	6. “This one’s on me." (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +"I’m lost.”  
> +“Give me a hand.”  
> +“I think you missed your calling.”

“This one’s on me.”

Veronica looks up in surprise just in time to see Jughead grab the check and leave the booth, making a beeline for the cash register up front. She’s so shocked he can’t even think of anything to say to stop him. By the time she registers what’s happening he’s already accepting the change from her mom, sliding back a fiver as a tip.

She stares at him, open mouthed, as he slides back into the booth easily.

“Jughead Jones, what was _that_?”

He looks amused by her scandalized tone. “Manners?”

She doesn’t buy it for a minute. The glare she shoots his way says so, and he caves under the intensity.

“Figured I’d buy the first date.” His answers comes with a shrug, casual as ever despite the blush painting his cheeks.

Veronica snaps her mouth shut with a click. She blinks rapidly, and takes so long to respond Jughead apparently decides to lose himself in his laptop again. He types rapidly, so fast that she doesn’t think he’s even making sense. She doesn’t feel bad when she leans forward and shuts the laptop on his fingers.

He pulls his hands back at the last moment and pouts.

“I’m lost,” she tells him simply.

Jughead snickers, but there’s an uneasy lilt to the sound. “Well, we’re in Pop’s, in a little town called Riverdale. My name is—?”

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third, do _not_ sass me right now.”

This time, _his_ teeth clack together as he shuts his mouth. Satisfied, she pushes his laptop to the side so that his full attention is on her.

“Give me a hand here,” she requests quietly, even though there’s no one around them to eavesdrop. “I’m… confused.”

Jughead scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I don’t think I can explain it. I just… _like_ you.”

“In a way that means you take me on dates.”

He shrugs and nods at the same time and faintly looks like he’s enduring an earthquake.

“Since when?”

Jughead’s eyes glaze over as he contemplates his answer. “Couples months,” he tells her eventually.

“So,” she starts, “instead of just telling me, you decide that suddenly buying me lunch is the way to woo me?”

Rather than answering, Jughead looks out the window to the foggy afternoon bathing the town.

“I think you missed your calling, Jug.” She finally sits back and relaxes into the worn booth. Her words pull his attention back to her, and she grins once she knows he won’t look away. “That was actually pretty romantic. If surprising.”

Realization floods Jughead’s expression at a snail’s pace, but Veronica waits it out with a smirk. Jughead opens his mouth after a while, but Ronnie cuts across him.

“Don’t think I’m on over so easily, Jones. Just because I _like_ you too doesn’t mean I don’t expect rom-com levels of wooing.”

“I can promise you burgers and milkshakes and probably flowers.” Jughead’s words are still nervous and when Veronica takes the hand he offers, his skin is clammy and cold. “And an amazing taste in movies.”

She props her chin in her hand. “I’m swooning,” she teases. Despite the taunt, when Jughead scoots forward with a sheepishly hopeful expression in place, Veronica can’t resist. She meets him halfway, table digging into their stomachs, in a simple and sweet kiss that tastes like sugar and grease. She pulls back with a sigh that evolves into a giggle. “Okay, now I really am swooning.”

Jughead snorts, but his blush gives him away.


	7. "Where the fuck did that clown come from?" (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +"Give me your hand"

“Give me your hand!”

“Where the fuck did that clown come from?!” Jughead can’t help but toss a look over his shoulder, and swears he catches the sight of big red shoes disappearing down another corridor.

“Give me your hand, Jughead!” Veronica snaps even though her fingers are curled around his wrist. Her nails dig into his skin, the click of her heels is ominous against the tiled floor. Her breathing is even but her cheeks are flushed and she looks ready to raise hell.

He’d comment on how good she looks like this, ready to destroy someone, if he didn’t think it’d make things worse. Instead, he lets Veronica pull him along until finally the shining green ‘exit’ sign casts its light upon them.

“Who the hell thinks _clowns_ belong in a haunted house!” Veronica shouts as they hit the brisk night air. She takes the steps two at a time, still yanking Jughead along even though he’s not nearly as coordinated. “Clowns are _so_ not scary! They’re ridiculous! Horrendous!”

With another annoyed shout, she stops walking and Jughead finds himself narrowly avoiding crashing into her.

“Ugh!”

Jughead smothers his laugh behind a hand. Veronica hears it anyway, because _of course_ she does.

“What’s so funny?” She snaps, chest still heaving with panic and energy expended.

“You,” he replies simply. He steps closer and rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezes comfortingly. “It’s alright, clowns freak me out too.”

She purses her lips. “I wasn’t freaked out. I was _trying_ to protect you.”

Jughead ‘ah’s softly, and nods. “My mistake,” he concedes. “Thank you, Veronica Lodge, you’re my hero.” He drawls out the words and throws himself into a teasing swoon. He bats his eyes at Veronica until she shoves him away with a laugh.

“Tell anyone about this and I’ll—?”

Jughead kisses her rather than let her finish, swallows up her words with a grin of his own.


	8. "That's a good look for you" (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +"Can we pretend I didn't just say that"

He’s been living with the Lodges for nearly two months when his mouth gets him into trouble.

 

It happens one morning as he trudges into the kitchen, bleary eyed and weighed down with sleep, just as Veronica starts a fresh batch of pancake batter. He knows she’s probably heard him already, probably heard him the moment he rolled out of bed, but she doesn’t turn to face him. He pads closer slowly, has half a mind to stop walking completely just so he has longer to take in the sight before him.

It’s not Ronnie making pancakes that gives him pause—she’s done it every Sunday morning since he moved in, and before that too. It’s not her hair pulled into a messy ponytail or and it’s not yesterday’s makeup smeared across her face. No, it’s none of that; none of that is _new_.

What is new is the fact that she’s in tight little briefs with one of _his_ shirts hanging off her frame. It’s plaid and ratty, one he’s pretty sure he stole from his dad’s closet. While it doesn’t entirely swamp Veronica’s shape, it’s definitely too big on her; the hem swishes around her hips as she dances and mixes the batter.

“That’s a good look for you,” he says suddenly.

She doesn’t startle, which confirms his theory that she knew he was there. She keeps stirring the batter as she turns to face him with a smirk. Face to face, he can make out the smudges of old eyeliner and mascara around her eyes. It looks artistic, intentional even, and makes her eyes seem even deeper, darker.

“Oh?” She asks in a tone brimming with false innocence.

Jughead chokes on his next breath. “Uh.” He tears his gaze from the deftly done buttons that keep the shirt closed and keep Ronnie modest. “Can we—can we pretend I didn’t just say that?”

Veronica’s smirk morphs into a grin. She shrugs and turns back to the counter. As she pours in an extra handful of chocolate chips, she replies. “If you want.”

Jughead blanches and shakes his head like he can disrupt what _must_ be a dream. He even tries rubbing at his eyes until they’re devoid of sleep sand. Despite all this, Veronica is still in the kitchen making pancakes and wearing one of Jughead’s shirts.

He steps up to the counter and peers into the bowl. “Need any help?” He asks instead of addressing her challenge. Jughead doesn’t miss the flicker of disappointment in Veronica’s brown eyes, and swallows his own disappointment in himself.

“I think I’ve got it.” Her voice is delicate and far from unkind.

He waits it out. Jughead leans himself against the marble countertop and watches as Veronica heats up the pan. He watches her wait until the pan is sizzling, and he watches her drop hefty blobs of batter in. He waits until all the batter has been cooked up to form a sizeable stack of pancakes.

Veronica turns off the stove and brings the plate over to him. He waits until she sets it down before crowding her space.

“I don’t want to pretend.” He tells her, voice shaking.

She grins again. “Good.”


	9. "Can I tell you a secret?" (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +"It's never too late"

He’s a little drunk.

 

Jughead blinks and the room spins, and forces himself to reconsider.

He’s _a lot_ drunk. Very drunk. Super, incredibly, obnoxiously drunk.

 

“You know you’re talking aloud to yourself right now, don’t you?”

Jughead opens one eye to look at Veronica Lodge looking back at him. He grunts in response.

Her nose wrinkles, it’s cute, even if she’s kind of giving him the stink eye.

“Still talking out loud.”

Jughead groans and shuts his eyes again. “Go away.” He waves his empty red solo cup in her general direction. He’s not at all surprised when she plucks it from his hand and tosses it aside.

“No,” she tells him simply. He doesn’t have the energy to argue. “I’ve been put on babysitting duty, since I’m apparently the only one who can hold their liquor around here.”

Jughead shrugs. The whole world starts to spin so he stops and grips the couch to keep himself steady. “I’m dying.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself.” Despite the scolding tone, Veronica reaches out and gently rests a hand on the back of his head. She guides him to lay down, head pillowed in her lap. She sets his signature beanie aside and pats his cheek, condescending and sweet at the same time.

“I know.” He’s grateful when she stops him from nodding. The less the room spins, the better. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asks after the silence has stretched uncomfortably long.

Veronica stops petting through his hair. “Of course, Jug.” Her voice is delicate, careful.

Jughead swallows and keeps his eyes shut. “I always wanted to ask you out, but I never worked up the nerve. Between Reggie and Arch vying for your attention, I didn’t know how… How to do it.”

“How to ask me out?”

Jughead hums in agreement. “You’re so much more than those guys realized, I didn’t want you to think I was just… following the herd, or that I was just some other teenage boy.”

Veronica laughs and her hand resumes the motions of combing through his hair. “I wouldn’t have thought that, Jughead.”

“Too late now,” he replies quickly. A yawn cuts him off and he loses his train of thought; he can practically feel the booze processing through his system. He feels himself get drunker and drunker—and by extension, sleepier and sleepier.

“It’s never too late.”

Her words are belated, so much so that he’s nearly dozed off. He opens his eyes though, limbs heavy but mind wide awake.

“What?” He tries to sit up, but she stops him.

“It’s not too late.” Veronica’s smile is kind of sad, but also not. “Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, okay?”

Jughead frowns.

“Okay?” She asks him again, stern and chiding.

Jughead relents and relaxes again. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “When m’sober.”


	10. "Stop trying to cheer me up" (Jugronica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +"This isn't what I had in mind"

Jughead looks up from the plates of food and sighs in Veronica’s direction. “Stop trying to cheer me up, it’s not gonna work.”

She pouts and bats her eyelashes at him, but he’s long since become (mostly) immune to her charm. She nudges each plate closer to him and he counters by pushing them back. It’s not that he’s _not_ hungry—he is—it’s just the principle of the matter. His happiness can’t be bought through (just) burgers and fries. Instead of caving to the quiet rumble of interest in his stomach, he levels Veronica with a stare.

“You’ve been trying to cheer me up all day. Don’t you ever give up?” He resists the urge to recount every moment of the day; Veronica was there, she doesn’t need a recap.

She doesn’t need him to list off the day: how the morning started off with Smithers delivering breakfast to the Andrews doorstep, just for Jughead; how the day progressed with Ronnie showing up and dragging Jughead out for some shopping a few towns over. He doesn’t need to tell her that while he appreciates the numerous new books he was able to add to his collection, it’s been superbly unnecessary.

Sometimes he just has bad days, and that’s all there is to it.

Veronica’s pout doesn’t fade, but the distinct spark of determination doesn’t either. “Let me try one last thing?”

Jughead groans. “Fine. But this is the _last_ thing.”

Veronica glides from her side of the booth and with two neat clicks of her heels on Pop’s tiled floor, she slides in beside Jughead. She gets so close their knees knock together, and the casual touch distracts him long enough that she manages to get even closer before he can protest. He stays stock still as she takes him by the chin and forces him to look her in the eyes.

She raises her eyebrow as if to give him time to stop her. He doesn’t. He does say, quietly, “this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Veronica kisses him swiftly. Her lips are soft and she tastes like cherries and she’s gone before he can register what happened. By the time he comes back to himself, she’s back on her side of the booth acting as though nothing happened.

Jughead blinks. He tries to think of something to say, anything, but comes up short. Instead, he pulls the plate piled with fries closer and ignores Veronica’s laugh. He _doesn’t_ ignore her when she extends her hand, palm up; he takes her hand and links their fingers, and figures they’ll talk about it later.


End file.
